A deep growling made him open one eye slowly. For a second, Mortis wondered if some dark creature had slipped into the room with him. But then he felt his stomach shudder, and realised it was just his body's cry for food.

He sat up in the crib and sighed. It was hard to siphon through ones memories, but some how he felt better for it. Elated and renewed. He stretched and grimaced as another shudder rumbled its way through his abdomen. Gods, how he'd kill for a steak.

Mortis strode to the door and opened it, peering momentarily into the hallway to see if anyone else was about. No one was. In fact, the whole boat seemed eerily quiet, aside from the gentle creaks that came from the slow rocking motion of the waves outside. He saw blackness through a porthole at the far end, and realised exactly how long he'd been in his half-dozing mind journey. Everyone else was probably asleep.

Padding as quietly as he could down the swaying corridor, he found the door to the kitchen and tested the handle. Unlocked, thankfully, but It gave an awful, mournful creak when he tried to push it open. Mortis bared his teeth, expecting a face to pop out of a bunk room any second and enquire about his movements. He really didn't feel like dealing with anyone – any human – at the moment.

Taking a breath, he gave the door a fast push, and was rewarded with a loud but brief squeak. The kitchen lay before him, ready to divulge its glorious bounties of salted meat and wine. His mouth was already watering.

Stepping to the ice box – an ingenious device, apparently kept cold by some kind of trick, or spell, the captain knew, and Mortis had yet to study – and opened the lid. Inside was packed with dozens of sea dwellers; fish with frozen eyes, pleading with him for their freedom. He could almost here their tiny voices, simply saying "we need more room!" Five crabs, hunched in the corner, would probably have been apt to agree, if they could, and the eel's impression of an icicle was close to flawless.

Grinning with a predatory, but rather unnecessary, eagerness, Mortis reached in and grabbed a large silver fish, biting the gut off it in a single motion. He spat it out almost instantly, disliking the cold, crystallised flesh that was now melting on his tongue. He tossed the rest back into the box. Seafood was never his forte anyway. He slammed the lid and turned to the shelves, nose scanning the room for something solid, red and satisfying.

After minutes of pawing through the cupboards and numerous containers sitting on the shelves, he began to believe that perhaps they'd only stocked enough for the trip, and the sailors had been hungry these past few days. He punched a large white bag of powder in anger, and if fell from the shelf, exploding on the ground. Mortis grinned, considering that suitable punishment for the chef. Let him clean it up; maybe next time he'll stock the kitchen properly with enough meat for everyone.

A small sneeze stopped him in his tracks.

All thoughts of appetite departed in a second. Mortis whirled, and studied the room. The bag of flour lay where it fell, fine white grains still floating in the air. However, the powder on the floor had been disturbed. Mortis bent and studied the tiny footprints, consisting of three-clawed toes, and followed the direction they had come.

It was another cupboard. Smaller, and made of steel. Here was where the meat should have been stored, but the way the door swung listlessly back forth, open to the world, suggested that contents had already been raided. Mortis leant in and sniffed, detecting the salt and beef almost instantly. But there was something else in there too. Something he'd smelt before. He picked up a half chewed piece of gristle and smiled.

"Well," he said aloud, "looks like we have a stowaway. Now where could he have gone?"

Mortis remained crouched and gazed casually around. The creatures escape was far from hard to follow; such is what happens when one runs through a white substance and then trails away into the dark. The assassin could have spotted the floury claw prints a mile away, but, wanting to enjoy the hunt, he decided to play the game a little longer. Crawling on all fours, he began to head towards the hiding hole he knew the stowaway now occupied.

"Hmmm… let's see. Could he be in here?" Mortis said, flinging open a set of drawers. Some mouse droppings rolled around in surprise, but other then that, only musty air greeted him. He moved on a bit more, pausing in front of another small cupboard.

"How about… here?"

The owner of the droppings actually dwelled inside this hole, and the rodent gave Mortis a vengeful glare before scurrying away through an escape burrow. The demon grinned, and moved to the wine barrel where his prey was no doubt quaking with fear by now.

"Well… he couldn't possibly be… here!"

He shoved the barrel aside, and for a second saw nothing but blackness. Then something small, red, and very fast lunged out. Mortis fell back on his ass, as razor-sharp claws slashed in front of his eyes. He felt the creature's weight on his chest, and quickly grabbed it by the scruff of the neck.

"Calm down there! I was merely playing. You're safe."

"No! Let me go! Put me down this instant! You will hurt me! Just like Master did!"

Mortis sat up and smiled sympathetically at the familiar as it dangled from his hand, swinging and scratching for all it was worth. The poor thing looked ready to die of shock, which, Mortis knew, small creatures did have the capability to do. He quickly tried to calm it.

"Easy little demon, calm now. Calm. You're safe. Ease your flailing heart."

The familiar thrashed for a few more seconds, then slowly lost its voracity and began to relax. Its tiny black eyes stared into Mortis's face, the chest rising and falling from its exertions.

"Please… please don't hurt. I hungry. Didn't mean to eat it all."

Mortis drew his mouth into a thin line and observed all the scraps of meat that lay behind the barrel. He looked sternly at the little creature in his hand.

"Well, I am annoyed that you ate all the food. But I've gone for longer then this without a meal. I'll live." The familiar swayed slowly back and forth, seemingly content to do so now the danger had passed. "But you must tell me why you're here."

"Master… Master abandoned me," the familiar said sadly. "Before he go through the portal. Said he had no use for me anymore; hit me with his stick when I asked if I could go anyway. He said he'd leave without dispelling me, and I should be grateful enough for my life."

"Ahhh," Mortis said, unsure of what else to add. "… So… is your appetite satisfied?"

The familiar stared at him oddly.

"Yes… for now."

"Are you tired?"

"Well… not very."

"Good," Mortis said, standing up, "then you can come to my cabin. It's been long since I've seen another demon, and even if you aren't a true Hell-born, I'm certain you have much to offer in discussion. I'm very eager to hear of your creation; let us talk for awhile, until sleep comes at least."

He headed for the door of the kitchen, still firmly holding the creatures neck.

"Err… could you… let me go?"

"What, you think just because I haven't seen one of my kind in so long I've forgotten how they think? I'll let you go when you're safely locked in my room and the portholes are closed, my little friend."

The familiar sighed and relaxed fully, resigning itself to the palaver ahead. What else could it do?

"Ok," Mortis declared after settling himself into a position that was comfortable on his crib, "let's start from the beginning."

The familiar sat perched on Braca's stool - which had been dragged close to the crib - eagerly chewing a fish Mortis had acquired on the way out of the kitchen. The tiny red beast seemed fine now, more at ease with the bigger demon that had captured it. Beady black eyes peered at Mortis over the scaly flesh in its mouth.

"Start? How?" it said, mouth still bulging.

"How about your name. Did your Master call you anything?"

The familiar put the fish on the stool for a second, chewing and looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. It furrowed its brow, no easy feat for something with scaly leather skin, and spat out a bone.

"He call me 'Idjit' sometimes. Sound like that anyway." Idjit returned to his fish.

Mortis smiled, repressing a laugh, and continued.

"Ok. Idjit. That suits fine." He paused long enough to let the familiar finish its latest mouthful. "How were you created?"

Idjit wiped his mouth and threw the fish unceremoniously on the floor. Then he sat so his legs were sticking out in front, and he rested on his arms. His tiny red wings flapped casually behind.

"It hard to explain. I don't have words for it."

"Is there any way you could find them?"

"Yes," Idjit said almost immediately. "We can use the mana."

Mortis sat up in his bed. He hadn't expected anything like this.

"The mana? What do you mean? Explain."

Idjit thought for a long time.

"You know how Master talked to you way out in the desert? Without words? In your head?"

"Yes."

"That's the mana."

Mortis waited patiently, but Idjit didn't continue. In fact, he was eyeing the fish again.

"Alright… you're saying he could use this 'mind talk', this…" he paused. What had Zac called it? "This… 'teller-pethy', because he could use the mana?"

"Yes. Everything has the mana. But not everything can use it. Master had to give up piece of his soul so he could."

"But you just said we could use the mana. Wouldn't we have to do the same?"

Idjit suddenly burst into laughter, rolling on his stool and holding his feet comically. Mortis felt like swatting him, but suppressed the urge.

"For big, old demon, you not know much," Idjit said at last. "Or maybe… maybe you just never been told? Master study all this, you see, so I learn very easily."

"Learn what? What don't I know?"

"All demons can use the mana," Idjit said simply. "Demons born with it. I saw you use fire when you fought Master. Where you think that come from?"

Mortis didn't say anything for a long time. He stared at the palm of his hand, then the back of it, then the palm again.

"Ok, little mana-born, I'm listening."

"All demons can use the mana. Master believes maybe angels can too, but he not sure cause he never seen one. 'Heaven is not a realm we can Summon from, Idjit," the little familiar said in his beset mimic of the Summoner's voice, "for what we bring forth could end up being far worse then any demon we've ever seen.'"

Mortis shivered. For some reason, the idea of that made perfect sense, yet he hadn't the slightest inclination why.

"Human, too, can use mana. If they born with it. Some can use it for magic, like control of water, fire, air. Other use it to fight with their bodies better. Other's…" Idjit paused and lowered his voice, "some can raise the dead. Me seen. Very scary."

Mortis raised an eyebrow. He'd heard of the necromantic tribes and the 'miracles' they could preform. The Hell Lords had the power to do it too, but he'd never witnessed a human do such an act.

"Could your Master do it?"

Idjit shook his head.

"Not very well. Master not born with mana, see, that why he had to sacrifice soul. He gain much power, as you saw. He could use 'teller-pethy', summon fire and ice, as well as demons from Hell realm. But he only able to bring back life for short time. Few minutes. Then the bodies collapse again. You can only bring back life once, he says."

Mortis nodded. Maybe humans could do it only once, but he'd seen Hell's denizens do it as often as necessary. The end results left a lot to be desired… but sometimes a fighter is needed now, while a thinking, able bodied demon mightn't be as important in the future.

"Do you know any magic beside fire making?" Idjit asked suddenly.

Mortis thought for a second, then displayed the palm of his hand.

"Watch," he commanded. Idjit did so, staring intently.

"Now blink."

Again, Idjit obeyed, doing a deliberate scrunch eyed blink. Mortis called in a piece of chain with a strange metal bit on the end, and when the familiar opened his eyes, he smiled with pleasure.

"Ooohhh! Very clever! And that's a shiny trinket. Can I look?"

Mortis immediately closed his palm and held it defensively to his chest.

"No. It's a charm, given to me by my teacher… my 'master' here in Sanctuary, before I left his home. I keep it with me always."

He raised the chain and flicked the metal hoop at the bottom. A ring inside it spun in random directions, creating a spherical shape that existed yet didn't. Idjit eyed it greedily, but stayed seated. Mortis vanished the chain and settled back once again.

"So, I believe we were going to start at the beginning? You said the mana, and we got side tracked. Explain again how we can use the mana to 'find the words' you need to describe your creation."

"Ok…" Idjit started, struggling with his thoughts. "Ok, I try to tell process best I can." He sat up on the stool, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes. "First, do this."

Mortis sat up and mimicked the familiar's actions.

"Now what?"

"Now, think of blackness. Black, empty space. Big… and black… and empty. It dark… and far away. Send your mind there. Concentrate…. Go… to empty space……. And wait for me there…"

Idjit's voice droned on for a long time; never changing its tone or speed, just a rhythmic chant designed to relax. Yet, when Mortis pushed the pessimistic thoughts from his mind and really began to concentrate, he felt the change almost immediately.

It started out as a feeling of weightlessness. His whole being began blur, become soft. He wanted to open his eyes and see if he and Idjit might be levitating, but he decided against this. As nice as the feeling of elevation was, there was a silent but sinister warning, lurking somewhere in the back of his mind, and he knew the state they were in was not wholly safe.

Then came extreme vertigo, as if gravity had tripped over its own oversized feet and was taking the world with it. Mortis spun and rocked, aware also that he was moving fast in an unknown direction. His body – or at least, what he thought was still his body – became streamlined, flying head first down a path that was neither a path nor a tunnel. Space and time are hard to perceive when you've been robbed of every sense you own.

Suddenly, Mortis hit a wall. He didn't bounce or feet pain when he slammed into it. Yet there was a barrier, perhaps a net? As it were, the surprise of colliding with something in this fast and weightless state made him open his eyes, and he was greeted by nothing but blackness.

He blinked, and turned around; something he found he could do quite easily. It was like being in water, but without a sense of pressure. It was like being in air, but without any of the smells and wind currents that accompanied it. Mortis tried to 'swim' through the blackness, but succeeding only in preforming a strange dog-paddle while seemingly not moving anywhere.

Finally, he gave up, and 'sat' in the darkness. Idjit said to wait after all. Mortis could feel the beat of his heart in his chest, feel the blood pumping in his veins. His chest rose and fell as if it was breathing air, but everything was fake. Touching his own skin yielding nothing; neither the flesh on the arm he touched, nor the tips of the fingers that did the touching registered they had done anything at all. Not numb: numb was a feeling.

In truth, Mortis imagined this is what it'd be like to be dead.

Idjit appeared beside him. No 'pop', no flash of light. He just appeared, floating in that same odd way Mortis was. The familiar looked at the bigger demon and smiled.

"Hello, Hell-Born cousin." Idjit's voice was calm and smooth, and somehow deeper then it had been before. There was a subtle knowingness both in his words and on his face.

"Hello, my little Mana-Born friend," Mortis smiled back. His eyebrows raised and a look of surprise crossed his face. He hadn't used words for that, never even opened his mouth. Idjit nodded.

"Telepathy is the only form of communication you can use in the mana. Spoken word does not exist here."

Mortis, not really believing the familiar, opened his mouth to test it… and nothing came out. It was an odd thing to speak without speaking. The sentences were on his lips but he couldn't hear them being said. It was like this… place, ate them before they had a chance to be born. Or perhaps, they never existed in the first place, like Idjit said.

"So this is the mana? Interesting… why is it so dark?"

"The mana is many things. This particular part is but an empty space; a clean slate on which to scrawl or create. Like a stem cell in the body of a growing foetus, this part of the mana has yet to find its purpose."

"Is it just me, or have you suddenly climbed a dozen or so rungs of the intellectual food chain?"

Idjit smiled and took hold of his feet; a typically childish action that did not suit the new - and eerie - intelligence he now possessed. He began to do a slow, floating back flip, wings pushing with ever so gentle flapping motions.

"I am born of the mana, therefore, when I am here, I am one with it. I know what it knows; it flows through me like breath."

Mortis nodded thoughtfully, and then felt content to just drift and think for awhile himself. It was peaceful here.

"… You said earlier that every demon can use the mana. I gather that is because we are part of it? And man as well?"

"Everything is part of the mana. The mana is the beginning. From the tiniest plant to the largest sea dwelling creature."

"If that's so," Mortis continued, "why is the mana not flowing through me like it is you?"

Idjit had finished his back flip. Now he was starting on a forward tumble, still holding his feet.

"A reasonable enough question, and one within your rights to ask. "Everything is born of the mana", as I said, but in truth, they are born from another being. Plants come from seeds. Man comes from the womb. Demons… well, not even you know how you and your kind are spawned, only that something births you, and the festering pits you mature in act as the surrogate mother."

"… Alright, I think I follow you so far. You're saying that because we're brought into the world by another physical being, our bond with the mana is lessened?"

"Yes. The 'parent', whatever it may be, acts like a channel to bring the new life in, but in the process much of the original connection is lost. Much like radio waves passing through an electrical –"

"I haven't the slightest conception of what you're talking about there, so please don't continue. You'll only make things more confusing then they already are."

"As you wish. In short; you were born through an intermediary device. Your connection with the mana is weak, diluted. I was summoned directly from the mana, therefore, my bond with it is still strong."

"I'm glad that is settled."

They floated on, and Mortis was suddenly aware that the darkness was fading. It was beginning to change; the total blackness seemed less defined, more like a smudge mixed with grey.

"Your original question was 'How were you created?' We came here so I could find the words to answer." Idjit drifted close by Mortis's head, almost sitting on his shoulder. It seemed whatever laws shaped this place kept them from touching. "But in fact, I can do better. I can show you."